


Bound and Free

by LeviSqueaks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plugs, Anal Sex, Angst, Assisted coping, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, D/s relationship, Dom Castiel, Fight or Flight, M/M, No Attempts, Shibari, Spanking, Sub Dean Winchester, asking for what you want, brief suggestions of suicidal thoughts, dean deserves nice things, even though he doesn't believe it, maintenance, no safewords, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks
Summary: There are days when it is too much. Days where Dean cannot escape the grief and guilt in his heart or the memories that haunt him. Where the memories and phantom pain echo without stop. When the thoughts get too loud, he would do anything for peace.Castiel thinks all of Dean is beautiful, beloved. That his strength and determination show just how good he is. He loves all of Dean, even the parts that are scarred and broken.When Dean finds himself scrambling at the edge, Castiel steps in to help him quiet his mind and heal his soul. One knot at a time.For the "Spanking" square on my Dean/Cas Bingo and the "Trying not to cry" square for Bad Things Happen Bingo.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 117
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Dean and Cas Bingo





	Bound and Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helloXsunshine (sammybee2)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammybee2/gifts).



Sometimes, Dean could not handle thinking.

It came from too many years on the job. Seeing too much, experiencing too much. Castiel had saved him from hell, but Dean had still lived it all. The horrors of decades of torture that wouldn’t leave him be. The year in purgatory, the fights with Sam, his dad. Losing everyone over and over.

He tended to cope with the bottle, to wash it all down with a bottle of Jack so he could numb his brain enough to stop thinking. It worked mostly. When he drank enough that his arms pulsed sluggishly and his body grew lax, his brain would sometimes quiet and he could just sit there. Numb. Unfeeling. Free. He’d pass out all warm and loose-limbed and it would let him finally get some sleep.

But sometimes it didn’t work. Sometimes all the alcohol in the world couldn't quiet out the screams. Sometimes the image of Sammy’s eyes going dark as he bled out in Dean’s arms became too much.

Those were the times that Dean needed help. Even though it was often too hard to admit it, to say the words. One night, a year or so ago, Dean had spiraled down to that place and Castiel had found him with his gun. The safety had still been on, it was just loose in his grip, but those piercing blue eyes had taken him in and then pulled it away.

“Dean,” the gravelly voice intoned from the fog as Dean felt the cold, heavy weight tug away from his hand. When he looked up, he saw Castiel’s expression of concern and it ached inside of him. The Angel dragged him close, held him so tight that his bones felt like they would snap.

It should have hurt. Should have made him feel claustrophobic for how tightly he was held. But it was as if the tight embrace held him together enough that everything else could let go. Great desperate sobs startled Dean as they escaped him. But Castiel only held him tighter, wound him close. Dean fought against the grip when he realized he was losing himself, but Castiel never budged, wouldn’t move. Dean dropped his head when he realized he couldn’t escape and wept himself into an exhausted sleep. 

The next evening, before the voices could even get louder, Castiel appeared with a bag and a solemn expression. “Hello, Dean,” he greeted quietly as he placed the bag next to him.

Dean’s shoulders eased at the familiar greeting and he quirked his lips, refusing to meet the Angel’s eyes, “hey Cas.”

Castiel knelt in front of him and stared up at him. Green met Blue and suddenly it felt a little safer in the room. “You were not well, yesterday. I did some research. I want to try something, see if it helps you. Do you trust me? Will you let me help you, Dean?”

Dean wasn’t sure anything could help, could make it better. He didn’t believe that the Angel had found a cure for the screaming torture he endured most nights. But he did trust Castiel and he was willing to try anything to get the voices to quiet in his head. “Yeah, I trust you Cas,” he finally agreed.

When Castiel pulled out a small bundle of ropes, Dean stared at the angel, measuring his expression. When he read nothing from Castiel’s passive face, he took a slow breath and sat tensely, waiting to see what the Angel had planned. Castiel, a Seraph, one oh Heaven’s deadliest warriors, knelt at Dean’s feet. He lifted Dean’s left leg to the edge of the bed and loosened the coiled knot of the first rope, letting it slither quietly in the silence of the room as he shook them out. He met the ends and held them together as he flicked his wrist and sent the rest of the rope flying free.

Dean watched him, his stomach clawing with confusion. He was so tired. So drained from the fighting, and the hunting, and the nightmares that wouldn’t cease. He sat on the bed, numb to it all, watching as Castiel gathered the other end of the rope where it folded and shifted forward to Dean’s lifted ankle. He glanced up at Dean, expression calm and eyes gentle before he lifted the end and wound it carefully around the narrow expanse of Dean’s ankle twice. His smooth fingers played slowly against bare skin as he minutely adjusted the fold. Castiel slid two fingers under the loosely wrapped rope and wound the rope around for a third time. But rather than lay it beside the others, he slid it under the other two coils. With a deft twist of fingers, he pulled it through and formed a knot.

Dean had watched it happen, he focused on the twining of rope as it slid, soft and smooth across his skin. He watched it, but now he couldn’t think of how it happened. He wouldn’t be able to turn around and do it himself or show someone else how to knot the tie correctly. The tie was secure but not tight and when Castiel tugged the ropes, Dean closed his eyes and felt it tug at his ankle, the edge of the knot sliding across the protruding bone. He shivered and let his eyes stay closed, focusing in on Castiel.

With his eyes closed, sounds rushed over Dean like waves. There was the whir of the AC unit, it’s motor starting to wear out so that it oscillated. The rising and falling of the motor belt was accompanied by a soft dripping sound. Letting it wash over him, Dean focused on the sensation of Castiel’s fingers as they stroked a line up the inside of his calf and inner thigh while laying the rope. The subtle tightening and adjusting sent shivers down Dean’s spine. Suddenly a thought swam forward that he should be more alert, more aware. He tensed before relaxing as Castiel murmured that everything was alright while smoothing a hand down Dean’s thigh.

Slender fingers traced the rope’s pattern before Castiel guided Dean’s leg to turn inward. Dean felt his head cock softly to the side, listing as he adjusted to the position. With eyes closed, he nearly missed Castiel shifting to stand up, only vaguely registering the soft swish of material rubbing together. He startled, a cry falling unbidden from his lips as warm arms wrapped around his hips and lifted him from the bed before placing him further away from the edge.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he swore at the unexpected manhandling from the Angel. He glared up at him, even though his limbs seemed too heavy to properly move to gesture wildly in his displeasure. “Don’t fucking do that.” he snapped, but even his ire felt muted in the sludge of exhaustion that seemed permanently etched in his soul and the lethargy that Castiel had draped over him with the twine of ropes.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” Castiel soothed as he guided Dean to let his leg drop open. Dean watched him, eyes narrowing though it was all too hard to focus on the way that Castiel’s fingers retraced the ropes, adjusting them again and re-tightening them so that they met his exacting standards. Dean settled into his new spot, taking in the man’s careful flick of the rope tails before letting his eyes flutter shut again while Castiel continued to wind the rope. It was peaceful, though Dean felt stupid for admitting it. But each long moment settled him deeper and deeper so that he felt like he was floating, only minutely aware as Castiel continued tugging and looping them carefully down the spiral to knot the rope securely.

Dean should feel trapped, incensed, uneasy. So much had happened in his life that it felt reckless to trust someone, even if they were your best friend. But each time a concern reared its head in his mind, it floated away into the ether. Once the last knot had been formed and the excess length was draped down around the bottom of Dean’s bare foot and back up to the anchoring knot at his ankle, Dean opened his eyes to blink down at the binding. His leg was bent, thigh to calf, and tied in an intricate web of spiraled knots. It was beautiful, forming a twisting, knotted pattern that held him securely. He could still open and close his legs and the movement didn’t twist his jeans or hurt.

Relaxing slightly, he allowed Castiel to repeat the same process with the other leg, fluttering away in the quiet of the room, his breathing slowly syncing to the Angel’s as Castiel continued intently at the task. His fingers and hands stroked and pet at Dean’s thigh, winding and draping the second rope until finally Dean was bound. Castiel stood again, and the faint sounds made Dean force his eyes open again. He wondered, idly, if there was some spell on the ropes. Something that made all of this feel as right as it did. He blinked slowly as Castiel took a seat at the head of the bed and met Dean’s eyes. “I’m going to lift you again,” the angel warned before picking Dean up and dragging him into his lap, bound and trussed. Dean shifted as he stiffened, his mouth falling open to protest. But then warm, strong arms wrapped around him, and all thoughts of protest melted away.

Just as before, the feeling of being held tight caused Dean to thrash for a moment. It was if he felt like he had to test Castiel’s strength. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t even want to fight it. But feeling the unmovable force wrapped tight around him eventually allowed him to relax bonelessly in Castiel’s embrace.

They sat there for hours, with Dean drifting without a care in the world. He trusted Castiel to keep him anchored. Castiel eventually untied the bindings, coiling the rope carefully and stowing them in Dean’s bag. He fed Dean crackers and sips of water and murmured that he was so very good.

After that, Dean knew he could call out to Castiel whenever he needed him, and that the Angel would come. All Dean had to do was present the ropes to Cas and the man would let him drift again. After a while, their relationship shifted and evolved. The futomomo adjusted when they needed it to. Castiel kept learning and taught Dean. About spankings for release, about grounding with a blindfold. How the touch of a hand could be corrective or soothing depending on what the night held for them. Each lesson meant another struggle. The need to test the boundaries and limits and eventual release.

Sam was out for the night.

Dean had been itching for hours. Desperate for relief, he paced the room and tried not to think. It was the same each time that he called Castiel. He hated that he needed the other man to soothe him, sometimes. Resented the fact that he needed help at all. Sometimes he wondered if letting Castiel tie him up and spank him made him less of a man in his own right. If it made him weak.

But each time, he gave in. The need was too great, and Castiel had proven that he would never judge Dean for what he craved. “Cas,” he called out softly into the night. “I really need you, tonight. Please.”

There was a wait, a pause. Pregnant with desire and bone-deep terror that Castiel wouldn’t come. That he would be left alone with his thoughts and desires and nothing to help soothe the pain that ached inside of him.

“I’m here, Dean.” The words came from behind, startling the hunter as he tensed and turned quickly. Castiel was standing there, calm and composed as ever. But something must have been showing in his face because Castiel’s brows furrowed and he stepped forward, lifting a hand to cup Dean’s cheek.

The man’s fingers were cool, the calluses of his palm familiar and arousing as the angel caressed across the stubble that lined Dean’s jaw. Dean allowed himself that moment of weakness. He closed his eyes and rested his head in Castiel’s palm, relishing the grounding touch. “I need you, please Cas,” he begged softly.

Castiel nodded and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Of course, clothes off, Dean. I will get things ready. Join me on the bed when you are prepared."

Dean wanted to scream and fight against the order. He needed this. Craved it. But his stomach clenched in a flash of rage. His jaw clenched and he was met with Castiel's cold eyes and a raised eyebrow. It was enough to melt the iron that refused to bend in Dean's spine, and he nodded and sat in the nearby chair to untie his shoes. Castiel turned his back on Dean at that point, sure that Dean would agree, bend, acquiesce. Certain that the fight had left the hunter enough that he would be obeyed without question.

Dean wondered for a moment, just a fleeting moment, of what would happen if he threw himself at the other man, fought back with fists before he could be restrained. At once, without thinking of the consequences, he dragged the knife up from the floor where he had dropped it after taking off his boot and lunged across the room toward Castiel.

Castiel spun and caught Dean’s wrist with a hand, his other hand grabbing Dean and dragging him back against Castiel’s chest. The arm slid around him and held him tight, as lips pressed to Dean’s ear. “Drop. The Knife. Dean.” There was no mistaking the commanding tone, the steel, and fire there.

Dean struggled against the arm for a moment before that rage snapped in Dean’s stomach and he dropped the knife to the floor. It was close to his own bare feet, but he didn’t flinch. He sagged instead, letting Castiel take his weight as a low moan left his chest. He was exhausted suddenly, the haze starting to creep into the peripherals of his vision, and he struggled to find the reason he had been so angry in the first place.

Castiel stood still, holding Dean close, keeping him steady on his feet and ensuring he wouldn’t collapse. When several silent moments had passed and Dean felt the last of the ire slip away, lips were pressed to his shoulder. “Good boy, Dean.” The praise was gentle and full of affection before Castiel’s tone darkened, “but you shouldn’t have waited so long to call me.” Cas stroked the hand that had held Dean’s wrist down his stomach instead. “You’ve pushed yourself. Go on, Dean. Get yourself ready like you were told. You can do that, right? Be a good boy for me?”

Dean took a slow, measured breath and nodded as he felt the tight grip ease from around his waist. He felt like he had gone 12 rounds with a vampire he was so tired and he could feel the slight tremor in his limbs as he stumbled over to the chair again and leaned against it as he stripped out of his clothing.

He tossed the clothes in the general direction of his bag and shakily made his way to the bathroom. Getting tied up made bathroom breaks difficult and so he used the time to make sure he would be comfortable. He stared in the mirror for a moment, feeling the chill of the air conditioner tightening his skin into gooseflesh and he swallowed as he washed his hands and then slipped out of the bathroom to the hotel room.

It was just like every other room he’d been in and just like usual, Castiel was sitting on the edge of the bed, his coat and jacket discarded as he waited for Dean. Dean approached Castiel and sank to his knees in front of him and bent to bury his face in Castiel’s thigh. He didn’t want to meet the angel’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he could take the calm, affectionate gaze. See the depths of the man’s knowledge. He didn’t think he could stand being stripped bare and measured. Even if he wouldn’t be found wanting. The urge to fight started to stir in him again and he tensed, his jaw clenching as his hands tightened in the dress pants that Castiel wore. “I can’t, Cas,” he managed tightly, and a hand settled in Dean’s hair and stroked slowly down his neck.

“What can’t you do?” Castiel’s voice was deep, imposing and calm like a stone that parted the waters in a river.

It washed over Dean then, the need to hide, the desperate hope that Castiel would figure it out without him having to admit what he needed. He was terrible at it, at asking the man for what he wanted, needed, craved. “I can’t… Cas I need…” he pressed his face deeper into Castiel’s thigh, meeting firm muscles and hard bone as he pressed closer. The hand on the back of his neck tightened and then both hands were cupping Dean’s cheeks and lifting his face firmly from the angel’s thigh. Dean clenched his eyes closed, refusing to open them, to see the other man.

A soft sound escaped Cas and the hands left Dean’s cheeks before the soft slick sounds of fabric sliding against each other sounded in the quiet room. Suddenly Castiel’s scent, ozone, and petrichor surrounded Dean as nimble fingers tugged Castiel’s tie down over Dean’s eyes and tightened the knot so that it blindfolded Dean’s eyes.

Dean sighed and felt more of the tension hidden in his gut loosen, allowing him to settle back on his heels. He should feel ridiculous, naked, and kneeling with a blindfold over his eyes, exposed and open. He couldn’t hide from the measuring gaze of the angel in front of him and the man’s eons of experience helped to make Dean feel smaller, insignificant in his presence.

But no matter how small he was, Castiel still treated him like something precious and beautiful. Cool hands slid down Dean’s shoulders and curled around Dean’s wrists before he was tugged up. Dean went willingly, the fight leaving him now that he was hidden away from view. Castiel couldn’t see how broken he was inside, and it was enough to make him feel safe.

At this point, several months past that first time, Dean was used to the careful binding process as his legs were locked tight, folded in the classic futomomo pose. Just feeling the brush of the rope before it was flicked around his ankle and tied in a knot helped him breathe a shaky sigh. The slow, methodical binding as his calf was pressed tight to his thigh helped ease the hard tension in his shoulders. The rasp of the rope against the coverlet on the bed soothed the temptation to fight or flee. The sharp tugging sensation as Castiel thoroughly bound him with the spiral knots around each look loosened the guilt he kept trapped in his stomach. One leg, then the other, the sensation of the rope against bare skin distinctly different than being bound in jeans.

When it was done Dean tensed in anticipation of being lifted. He was right to be wary because he felt the dip of the bed beside him and then the dizzying vertigo of being lifted and then pressed face down across Castiel’s lap. He flailed, hands reaching out quickly to grab on to Castiel’s arm and the bedding beneath him. He settled when a hand planted quickly against the small of his back and he was anchored in place, legs gently maneuvered to be more comfortable.

With his legs tied up behind him, Dean couldn’t arch away to keep himself from being pressed firmly into the thick thighs beneath him and his breath hitched as he realized that Castiel was bare. The sensation of strong, warm skin against his own, his cock nestling into the gap between Castiel’s thighs, the rasp of body hair against his stomach all made him grunt as he turned to bury his flushed face into the bedding.

There was a soft noise, a sigh, or the start of a breathy chuckle above him and Dean felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught out like that. He was aching and wanting Castiel, but he wasn’t used to feeling so vulnerable either. There was a quiet pause, a silence that itched up Dean’s spine before wet fingers were suddenly teasing at his hole. He hissed and jumped, flailing again and a hand punching into the mattress in reaction to it.

The urge to fight reared its head but was quickly eased down again when the hand on his back trailed up to grip the back of Dean’s neck firmly. Castiel’s voice was gravelly, the possessive desire in it unmistakable as he firmly pressed the lubricated finger into Dean and began to stretch him out. “Shhh, be good Dean.”

That was all it took.

All it took for the fight to ease back out of him. For the tension’s jagged edges to get sliced cleanly and for his breath to slowly ease in and out of him again. It wasn’t that he wanted to fight Castiel. It was that he couldn’t allow himself to feel nice things. Didn’t deserve them. Couldn’t accept them without being given the order to. But now that he had it, he relaxed again.

He wondered if Cas would get tired of dealing with him. Of giving him this. He wondered when the angel would snap and call it off. When his vacillating moods and fighting would wear Cas’ patience down to the breaking point.

As if knowing what Dean was thinking, the finger inside of him withdrew and a second was pressed in, stretching him. His breath hitched from the unexpected ache. He was still new to being penetrated and it never failed to make his skin pucker in goosebumps and stutter his breathing. “That’s it, Dean, just relax and let me take care of you,” Castiel intoned softly. The words were another layer of balm to Dean’s heart and he whimpered as he shifted to hide his face, not wanting Cas to see the blush that rose high in his cheeks.

A third finger quickly pressed in before Dean could catch his breath and he whined softly as Cas’ thick fingers pushed in and then twisted, easing in and out of him in a character of the act they still hadn’t reached. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want Cas to fuck him. He was desperate for it, yearned for the man to take him and help him feel something, anything, that wasn’t hopelessness. “Please,” he rasped when it all became too much. His cock had long since filled and become erect, shifting and thrusting between Castiel’s thighs with each insistent push of fingers.

Cas hummed lowly in response, not really bothering to acknowledge the plea but still crooking his fingers so that they touched against Dean’s prostate before he pulled them free. “Be patient,” he admonished Dean before something blunt and cool pressed against his hole. Dean sucked in a breath and clenched his fists tight in the blankets at the feeling. Tension was mounting in his back, but before he could decide to fight away or protest, a hand slowly eased down his spine. It went slowly, petting and stroking his skin until he was able to relax and the plug pressed into him.

Dean cried out lowly as the plug widened until it was too much, too wide. It seemed to hold there forever until it popped inside, the base nestling tight against his entrance as the neck settled. Dean felt his stomach shift, butterflies taking over as he clenched around the toy and panted as he tried to adjust. It was different than Castiel’s fingers, wider, cooler… it felt foreign and wrong, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

Castiel gave him a few moments to adjust to it, his breathing, harsh and shaky, the only sound in the room. Castiel’s hand planted a little firmer in Dean’s back and it was the only warning he received before a hot blooming pain spread across his cheeks. He sucked in a breath, suddenly registering the sound of Castiel’s hand falling and he flexed his ankles where they were bound so close to his thighs. The hand fell again, cupped slightly so the spanking sounded loudly in the room. It was if thunder was cracking and the wave of sensation, heat, almost pain, crashed over him.

It went on and on, the blows falling in a slightly varying rhythm, each one maximizing pain and sound as Castiel worked his skin up to a rosy red. He concentrated on the creases beneath the swell of Dean’s ass, right where it would hurt most when he sat. He covered both cheeks, low and high so that Dean’s skin throbbed with the rushing blood. It didn’t hurt, Castiel never hurt him, but it stung enough to settle something inside of him that had been wailing and gnashing its teeth for some sign that the world would be okay.

It was if Dean had a beast inside of him that only Castiel could tame.

His cock leaked precum down Castiel’s thigh. The sensation of his overly sensitive head rasping against soft body hair and warm skin made Dean pant with desire. He twisted and rocked his hips after a particularly harsh blow and whined when the hand planted on his back quickly twisted in his hair. “No Dean. Don’t move. Be good for me,” the order came firmly. It took everything in Dean not to sob in response.

“Please Cas. I need it,” Dean begged softly as he tried to keep his hips from thrusting. Abortive jerks still happened but it was obvious that he was trying to obey the order he had been given. Castiel soothed the hand into Dean’s hair and then down his back again.

“I know. I’ve got you,” the angel promised, and it was enough to help Dean wait. “Ten more, you’ll count these, Dean.” The words came calmly, with the knowledge that all the fight had left Dean, that he wouldn’t be trying to get away any longer. The hand rose from where it had been resting and gently rubbing in the heat on his left cheek then fell again in a sharp, firm swat.

“One! God Castiel, please!”

The hand caressed him again and then slapped down again on his right cheek, right in that same aching bruised spot at the crease of his thigh.

“Two! Please!”

But his pleas went unanswered and instead the hand fell again. Dean’s chest loosened a bit and the hand fell again. Dean felt the pain lancing through him, and he clenched down hard on the toy inside of him in response to it.

“Three!”

Another came before Dean could even fully get the words out and he hiccupped a little in shock.

“Four! Please Castiel,” came the whine that followed.

“I’m right here Dean. I promise I’ll give you everything you need,” came the reassurance and then suddenly another strike. Dean cleared his throat to keep from sniffling.

“Five!”

Another came quickly and Dean jerked when it fell, his cock brushing between Castiel’s thighs drawing a moan of delight from him at the sensation.

“Six! I’m sorry!”

Castiel hummed again in response and the hand on his back shifted back up to pet his hair. “You’re so good for me, Dean,” came the soft response to his apology. Another strike fell and Dean could feel a little bit of the panic slip away as awareness became shaky and dim in the haze of throbbing sensation and pain.

“Seven!” Dean’s breathing hitched. He felt close to tears, but he didn’t want Cas to know how close he was to losing it all.

Another strike and Dean felt the tears slip out any way to stain the blue material of the tie. His breathing kept hitching, catching on the grief and guilt that threatened to cascade over him.

“Eight, I’m sorry Cas.”

“You have no reason to apologize, Dean. Your soul is the brightest I’ve ever seen. I’ve nothing to forgive.” Another strike fell and Dean bit down on his lip as his hips jerked again and the pain switched quickly to pleasure at the slide of his cock against Cas’ thigh.

“Nine, I...”

But his words closed off as he finally let out the sob that had threatened to fall so many times already. He immediately felt a wave of horror at the release. He didn’t want to cry like this, and the embarrassment clenched his fists in the ugly coverlet again. Another strike fell, directly centering on Dean’s ass and jostling the plug inside of him. He choked and keened a little. The noise left him so rapidly and without the ability to stifle it.

“Ten!” He panted harshly and then let the hitching in his voice waver unhidden, “Thank you.”

Castiel shifted backward on the bed, Dean sliding with him, and then Dean felt those strong hands lifting him under his hips and turning him, so he tumbled on his back. Legs still bound, they flopped open leaving Dean exposed to the cool air of the room. He shivered as his cock bounced on his stomach, trailing precum and Castiel shifted closer, the warmth of his naked thighs settling between Dean’s own.

Dean squirmed a bit, suddenly wanting the blindfold off so he could see what Cas was doing. He reached up but stopped before he touched it, hesitating. Was he allowed to take off the blindfold? Castiel leaned over him and Dean shivered at the heat before gentle fingers were tugging away the tie. Dean looked up and blinked, his vision snapping into focus again as he took in Cas’ naked body and dark blue eyes. There was something possessive in them and Dean sighed in response to it. Cas ran his hands up Dean’s cheeks to his hair and bent to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s forehead before trailing the kisses down, across his cheek, on the corner of Dean’s lips, down his neck, at his chest, stomach…

He sat up before his lips could reach Dean’s cock and he reached down to grip the base of the plug inside of Dean and pulled it free. “You’re so beautiful, Dean,” Cas managed before reaching for the bottle of lubricant on the table, exchanging it for the toy and dripping some in his hand. He reached down to slick himself and Dean’s gaze became riveted on the sight of Castiel hard between his thighs. He hadn’t ever seen Castiel so affected and he swallowed reflexively.

He wanted Cas inside of him.

The thought should have made him squirm, want to lash out, but it was if the spanking and the ropes had burnt out all the obstinance within him. Now, he just wanted Cas. The angel seemed to be of the same mindset and he quickly reached down to lift Dean up by the secure knots holding his legs bound so tightly and shifted forward, his cock pressing against Dean’s hole. Dean swore thickly and reached for Cas, feeling weightless and out of control.

But Castiel wasn’t deterred by the frantic scrambling of hands around his chest and shoulders. He just pressed forward, bending his forehead down to touch Dean’s. “Shh, I’ll take care of you, Dean,” he promised, and then suddenly he was pushing inside Dean and filling him, stretching him wide.

The thrusts came slowly at first, rolling and gentle as Dean fought to relax and ease himself into the fucking. His stomach clenched and his skin rushed with goosebumps as he tried to adjust to the new sensation. He felt lightheaded as if he might pass out from the knowledge that Cas was inside of him. Taking and claiming him this way. Soon, Castiel’s hips began to quicken, rocking forward with an urgency that Dean wasn’t prepared for and loved anyway.

The angel’s bright blue eyes and perpetually messy hair were both wilder now as his hips snapped forward and brushed up against that spot inside of Dean that made him whine with need. He was growing bolder, quicker while he chased his own pleasure, and something seemed to break inside of Castiel too. “So good for me, Dean. Such a good boy to take me like this. You’re doing so well for me. Want to feel you fall apart around me.” Cas panted and it was more than Dean could take.

He arched up, his body trembling in that white-hot bliss right before his body fell from the precipice of his pleasure. He came with a shout of Castiel’s name as his muscles clamped down around Castiel’s cock. He vaguely heard Castiel growl his name, felt the other man’s hips snap against his own and still. But the world was foggy as his brain finally shut down and he sighed in bliss as he drifted on endorphins and the waves of pleasure.

He only vaguely registered Castiel moving, the knots loosening around his legs until they were free. He hummed in pleasure as Castiel massaged them lightly to get the blood flowing freely again. He startled a bit as a warm, wet cloth rubbed across his skin, between his cheeks, wiping up their mess effectively before the damp cloth could cool.

He started to swim back to the surface as Castiel dragged a pair of boxers up his legs and bent to kiss his lips lightly. “Sleep Dean, I’ll watch over you,” came the gentle promise.

Dean managed to shift and roll over as blankets were tugged up over him, his brain and chest both empty and free of the toxic sludge of self-deprecation that had spurred him to call Castiel in the first place. He let his heavy eyes flutter shut then as he registered the soft rustling of things being set to rights and then a weight settling on the bed beside him.

FIN


End file.
